Smalltown Superhero
by thisisnotmybeautifulhouse
Summary: Merlin's still learning the art of misdirection, and struggling to catch the heart of the guy who often shares space and bylines, but is never quite on the same *page*, as Camelot's resident magical hero. T only to hedge my bets, because who knows?
1. If you want to buy me flowers

**Okay, New Plan, my ducklings. In order to keep this new 'verse organized, all the Camelot_Drabble pieces I write related to it will be posted as new chapters here, as opposed to the other catch-all Camelot_Drabble fic _Let Us Not Be Onefaceted,_ because otherwise, I will be a scatterbrained wreck trying to keep everything straight, and nobody wants to deal with me when I'm like that, I promise. On the upside, both fics should receive an update next week, because the next prompt is 'Scars,' which gave me plenty of inspiration. For now, though, enjoy this first installment in my _Smallville_-inspired Merlin AU.**

Merlin Emrys arched his back and extended his arms to the morning sun, then leaned back against the opaque glass door of his balcony, glorifying in the heat on his mostly bare skin. The sights and sounds of Camelot greeted him cheerily, and for a moment, everything was beautiful. Peaceful.

The imaginary utopia screeched to an abrupt halt along with the angry sound of tires burning from the too-fast friction against the pavement far below. Sighing, he rushed inside to throw on his suit and then rushed right back out. Nimbly hopping up onto the ledge, he checked for passersby or witnesses in the buildings across the street and then stepped off, allowing his magic to slow and soften the impact of his feet meeting generally unforgiving pavement.

No rest for the wicked - or so they say.

…

"Ealdor, where have you _been_?"

Adjusting the spectacles which might have been made out of _tar_for all the good they actually did his 20/20 vision, Merlin peered up from his computer to meet the disgruntled gaze of his reluctant partner and frequent sharer of bylines. "I had to - buy more soil for my azaleas."

Arthur Penn stared at him as though he was the lowliest kind of worm and then clarified flatly, "More _soil_? For your _azaleas_?"

"Yes." He widened his eyes as innocently as possible, trying to imply that he could not _imagine_how Arthur could find it so difficult to conceive the dire need of his potted plants.

"Well, I hope for your sake that they are the most amazing azaleas the world has ever_ seen_, because while you were out taking care of your _precious _plants, Superboy was helping our boys at Scotland Yard catch The Dark Physician, and I couldn't get anywhere near enough to take a statement from anyone because my father insists that I not go off without my little watchdog anymore." The diminutive stung, but probably not as much as it should have. Ever since coming to the Camelot Press, Merlin had watched over its star reporter, who time and again found himself kidnapped or stuck in an air vent looking for evidence or _something_heinously life-threatening.

Camelot's criminals were far too aware of the Boy in Blue's soft spot for the Chief Editor's son.

"I think they're blooming really beautifully this year, actually, and the new soil should really help. Maybe you could come over and s-"

"Penn, Emrys, what are the two of you still doing here? There was a murder in the East Side - I expected you to be out there looking into it _five minutes ago_." Perhaps Merlin should have been thankful that Uther Penn chose that moment to interrupt yet another botched attempt to ask Arthur on a date, because honestly, the lie about needing new soil was bad enough - inviting Arthur over purely so that he could see the azaleas he did not actually own? _Way to go, Emrys. Real sodding smooth._

In spite of the overall futility of the gesture, after he and Arthur reached a dead end in their research for the day, he went and bought some truly phenomenal azaleas - and a large bag of what the sales assistant had assured him was the best soil out there for potted plants.

As he set about arranging the flowers on his previously bare balcony, Merlin told them, "He _could_come here one day. He might even decide he likes Merlin Emrys more than he likes Superboy."

The azaleas stared back at him impassively, and he jerked his head back, highly offended by their lack of support.

"He _could_! He will!" He pursed his lips and then muttered, "Just you wait."


	2. I have a tendency for losing my shirt

Notes:

This part is probably not funny in quite the same way as the first one, but hopefully it will still prompt a few grins here and there. The title for this piece is an allusion to the Bare Naked Ladies' _One Week._

Written for the Camelot_Drabble prompt "Scars."

Why had no one ever warned him that being a superhero involved so much_ dodging?_!

_And ducking_, he added mentally, turning thought into action.

When Merlin emerged as Camelot's magical defender, Arthur Penn's first article jokingly referred to him as "Superboy," in irreverent allusion to the American version of the modern epic hero, citing his ability to defy the laws of gravity and to create fire, his most frequently used tricks, as justification. The name had stuck, but reality had apparently missed the memo, because he was not, in fact, invulnerable.

There was one positive aspect to his humanity: it negated nature's need to invent the magical equivalent to Kryptonite. Instead, the balance of the world was carefully maintained by the many and varied marks marring his once-smooth flesh, received in the many conflicts which were already starting to blur in his memory.

At least he'd never need to go on a diet or join a gym. The workout he went through on a daily basis burned through everything he put in his mouth and then some, leading to the scathing remarks his partner often made in regard to his wiry frame. It's funny, but Arthur never once complained about his figure when he was in The Suit.

As if on cue, his royal blue cloak caught fire, and he threw it off, sparing a moment to send apologetic thoughts in his mother's direction. What was that - the fifth cloak ruined this month alone? He decided it would be in his best interests if the rest of his outfit failed to follow this time, sending a spell to freeze The Shadow, a young sorcerer who had turned to dark magic after one too many bullies teased him in school. While Merlin could understand the sentiment, having endured his fair share of teasing when he was still a student, he would never condone turning his fury-driven powers on the innocent and the magicless.

He strode confidently over to the frozen young man. "You should really look into more constructive hobbies, friend. Have you ever considered gardening? The flowers can be quite rude at times, but at least you really can ignore them if you simply walk away."

A strangled laugh stilled him, raised the hairs on the back of his neck. "Sometimes, Superboy - well. You remind me of someone."

"Mr. Penn. It's very dangerous for you to be out here alone. Where is your partner, Mr. Emrys?" He should have known the intrepid _(pig-headed!_) young reporter was lying when he told his partner he would wait until his return to investigate.

Arthur scoffed at Merlin's query. "He said he had to go feed his neighbor's cat. Who leaves in the middle of the workday to go feed some old biddy's_ cat?_"

Keeping his eyes on The Shadow, Merlin said, "It's time for you to leave, Mr. Penn."

"What? Why? May I not at least have a statement first?" Arthur sounded startled, but Merlin had no time for it. The young sorcerer in front of him was beginning to show the first signs of throwing off his freezing spell, and Merlin really would prefer not to have half his attention on Arthur Penn whilst dealing with a misguided reminder of his own inner demons.

"Arthur, _go back to the newsroom_." Whether it was the rare use of his first name while in this persona, or the undeniable tone of authority with which it was uttered, Arthur obeyed.

"How do you put up with Muggles like him?" If Merlin ever actually had the opportunity to meet Ms. Rowling, he was going to share a few choice words. It was things like the term, 'Muggle' that made relations between the magical and the non-magical so fractious. For now, however, it was time to duck some more, because The Shadow had finally managed to break free.

Heat licked at his sides and, exasperated, he dove into a somersault, taking the time out of the line of fire to put out the flames lining his suit.

Thank goodness his mother was such a forgiving woman.


	3. You worry about the weather

**This week, the prompt over on Camelot_Drabble was "Surrender." We've come to le angst in this 'verse, but hopefully we won't stay there. The title for this part comes from Our Lady Peace's _Superman's Dead._**

**You worry about the weather and whether you should hate**

Glancing from The Faerie Queen to the unconscious form of Arthur Penn, Merlin felt the beginnings of true panic setting in, and hated what she had so easily reduced him to. He'd been thwarting her plans quietly for months, but she must have grown tired of playing the game and decided to change the rules, as this was the first time she had forced him to confront her in the open. Would she recognize him? Did she know the truth already? _Does any of that matter, when she could hurt Arthur?_

He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to choose between hurting Arthur's half-sister or letting the blood of innocents taint his hands.

Merlin's life would have been so much easier if Uther Penn had been able to keep it in his pants.

Before, he'd had no qualms about opposing her - the only people who got hurt in their game then were her thugs, guns for hire, petty magic users following someone who could offer them protection in exchange for services rendered. Merlin had despised the need to harm anyone in order to keep the people of Camelot safe, but this... Arthur would never forgive him. He might understand, but he would always resent Superboy for forcing him to see his half-sister's traitorous ways and for harming her in any way.

Would that be so bad, really? If Arthur no longer worshiped Superboy, would Merlin Emrys have a chance?

He recoiled at the thought - wasn't his hope, his dream, that Arthur might come to care for all of him, and not just a part, a half-truth?

"I had hoped you'd be a bit more_ fun_, Superboy. If all you're going to do is stand there, you may as well surrender. You're so_ boring _when you're like this. So _human_." Her name should have been The Viper. She was so incredibly sibilant with prey captured and victory in sight.

Her words had one positive side-effect. He found his voice. "We _are_human. Why should I want to be anything else?"

By now, her beautiful features would be twisted beneath that gold-wreathed sage mask she used to conceal her identity. "You can pretend to be normal, to be weak like they are, Superboy - and maybe you are. After all, you love _him_. But I know better. We are gods among _ants_, and I will crush them beneath my heels."

_At least I still know_ how_ to love_. "You're the weak one, and I pity you. What made you so bitter? So full of hate?"

"This is your great plan? You're going to talk to me about my_ feelings?_" She spat the word as if it were poison on her serpent's tongue.

His eye caught something in the rafters of the warehouse she chose to bring Arthur to after kidnapping him in order to stop his discovering the trail that led the rise in crime within Camelot back to his dear, darling, bastard of a sister. "We could talk about something else. Have you read the latest _Better Homes and Gardens?_ There was this lovely article about using netting," his eyes flashed gold and the iron-alloyed fishnet fell from where it had been supporting several decorative fish, an homage to the warehouse owner's fishing prowess, "to keep plants safe from creatures that could get in and try to take what_ isn't theirs_." The fishnet wrapped itself around her startled and furious form, and she thrashed and struggled to break free.

After watching her dispassionately to ensure that the little bit of iron in the alloy would be enough to contain her magic, Merlin walked over to the phone hanging on the wall of the warehouse and contacted the local authorities, promising to come down to the Yard to give his report later.

For now, he had a young journalist to return home.

He knelt down by Arthur and pulled him into his arms, ignoring the vitriol the trapped sorceress continued to spew. Leaning his forehead against Arthur's, he whispered the necessary spell and whisked them away.

How many times now had he placed Arthur Penn gently on the king-sized bed in his flat, and then disappeared to his own? He wasn't sure anymore. All he knew at this point was that he would keep bringing Arthur home.

Morgana - and he winced at his mind's unfortunate use of her true name - had been right about one thing.

He loved Arthur, and he knew now that he would do anything to keep him safe.


	4. I'm standing here until you make me move

** I apologize if this is inaccurate (which is highly likely), but according to the internet... the Pulitzer Prize can be awarded to people in countries other than the United States. The title for part IV of Smalltown Superhero is from Lifehouse's _Hanging By a Moment_.**

"The _Pulitzer Prize_? _That's_ worth risking your neck - _again?_" Merlin could not believe the audacity of his partner. Or perhaps he could, and simply wished otherwise. Unfortunately, this was Arthur Penn, Investigative Journalist, at his most stubborn, his most driven.

What could be better motivation for someone like Arthur than the potential for life-threatening situations? Getting a prize for charging straight into them.

"It's the crowning accomplishment of any journalist's career, Emrys. You know it as well as I do. Any person in this business worth his salt-"

"Right, well, fortunately for me, you've made it blatantly clear what you think about my worth as a journalist," Merlin cut in bitterly. What did it mean that more often than not, he felt more inclined to strangle the one he loved than to snog him?

Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. "Why are you acting like even more of a wet blanket than usual? Aww - did someone not get his nap out?"

Fed up, Merlin slammed the pen he had been clicking in and out rhythmically throughout their 'professional disagreement,' down on his desk and told his partner, "Forget it. If you want to throw yourself to the Faerie Queen - maybe wrap yourself up in some shiny gift wrap and stick a note on it declaring, 'Take me - I won't even put up a fight!' then go ahead and do it. Dig as deep as you possibly can into her snake pit! I hope you _choke _all her scales." Amidst the stunned silence of the newsroom, Merlin stalked out.

He leaned against the stone wall outside the back entrance, fuming at himself, at Arthur, at the entire sorry affair. So accustomed to having a destination in mind whenever he rushed from the Camelot Press, Merlin had no idea where to go or what to do with himself at the moment. What did most people do when they had bad days at the office?

By the time he was well into a debate with himself over whether to spill all his woes to his uncommonly judgemental azaleas or to share a highly sanitized version with a bartender in some hole-in-the-wall pub, he was too distracted to notice that he was no longer alone.

"You have a backbone, Emrys. It's nice to know." At this, Merlin's head snapped to the side, and he found a solemn Arthur Penn leaning beside him, looking somehow younger and slightly diminished.

He shook his head wearily and asked, "What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be chasing down evil underground organizations?"

Nodding slowly, Arthur said, "Someone reminded me just now - rather loudly and emotionally, I might add - that there are people who care more about me than about my ability to get the answers no one else can."

Merlin grinned in spite of himself. "Who could possibly get something like that through your thick skull?"

"Well, you see, I have this idiot partner, and most of the time he's about as forceful as a churchmouse. Every once in a while, though..." Arthur's voice trailed off, and he stared at Merlin contemplatively.

When it seemed as though his companion would simply continue thinking, Merlin asked, "What?"

"He surprises me." There was something there, something in the words that Merlin couldn't parse. Before he could become too frustrated by his incomprehension, Arthur spoke again. "Look, I know it makes no sense to you, that I just seem reckless. But it's so much more than that. Someday, I will be expected to take my father's place. Before I can do that I have to prove that I deserve it."

"To whom?"

"To everyone." Right now, Arthur truly looked his age, young and vulnerable and desperate for acceptance.

He could scream. Every time Merlin believed he had found a way to put some distance between himself and his feelings, he'd be confronted with another side to Arthur and fall even more in love than he was before. Instead of venting his frustrations, he sighed heavily and told the object of all his stress, "If we're going to take down the Faerie Queen, then we're doing it my way, do you understand? We're going to exhaust every source, every record, every old news article and broadcast, and only when we have every last shred of evidence we can glean that way will we try and track her down. Otherwise, I will be a thorn in your side throughout the entire investigation, leading you on a merry goose chase."

Arthur's answering smile was pure exaltation, his laugh incredulously victorious. He clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder and began turning back toward the door, calling back, "What are you waiting for, then?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and hauled himself up from his spot on the wall. Maybe it would be easier now.

As soon as the idea crossed his mind, he laughed at himself. Keeping the world's best investigative journalist alive was a full-time job, and now they were going after his evil half-sister. Things had never been more difficult, or more dangerous.

_Still,_ he thought after catching up to his jubilant partner, _I wouldn't change it for the world_. He just hoped he wouldn't lose what little he had of Arthur once they found the truth.


	5. Don't know if I laugh or cry

**This week, the prompt on camelot_drabble was 'Whispers in the Night.' The title is from Faith No More's _Out of Nowhere_.**

'_**How could you keep this from me?'**_

Groaning, Merlin twisted restlessly in merciless slumber.

'_I'm going to kill him, Superboy. Would you like to watch?_'

"No."

'_Oh, yes_.'

Breathing ragged and body slick with sweat, his head tossed from side to side on his pillow. "No, Morgana, don't!"

'_Why shouldn't I take away what you love, Superboy? You're so weak. You deserve this._'

"_NOOOOO!_" As the Faerie Queen's magic raced toward the form of Arthur Penn, even as he gazed at Merlin in betrayal, he jerked awake, staring up at the ceiling in horror and devastation.

After lying there for a moment, panting and spent, he dragged himself up from his supine position and swiped a trembling hand over his face. _This has got to stop_. For the ninth night in a row, he had woken from the same terrifyingly real nightmare. He knew why. The more he and Arthur searched for evidence against the Faerie Queen, the closer they came to tracking her down, and he was becoming an absolute wreck at the thought of actually finding the necessary data. As much as he would love to be able to put her away for the rest of her life, Merlin knew it would not be that simple. Arthur still had no idea the sorceress they were going after was his half-sister, but the time for his continued ignorance was running out.

One way or another, Morgana's true nature would be revealed soon, and it would utterly destroy Arthur, who loved her completely.

He searched for the answers to his problems in the darkness around him, but all he found were the remnants of his recurring phantasms. The alarm clock beside his bed informed him pitilessly that it was not yet three in the morning. Still, after waking from that particular nightmare, there would be no more sleep. Frustrated and disheartened, he threw off what little of the sheets continued smothering him and stumbled into the washroom.

The heated water chased sweat and stray tears down the drain, leaving only exhaustion and stress behind. Peeling himself away from the stretch of tile he leaned against, he shut of the showerhead and stepped out, toweling himself dry.

After pulling on a clean pair of boxers, he went out to sit beside his azaleas on the balcony. Looking out over the city, he asked, "What am I supposed to do? I said I would help him, and I will, but... no matter what I do to prevent it, he's going to get hurt."

The faint breeze stirred the otherwise quiescent flowers, and Merlin glanced at them despondently.

"Yeah, I don't know either." He heard the soft _snick_of the grappling hook finding its mark before a pair of booted feet landed to his left, nearly soundless. Turning to face the intruder, he sighed exasperatedly. "You know, most people are asleep at this time of night, Gwaine."

A grin appeared in the expanse of skin left bare to the world by his friend's mask. "That's 'Sir Gwaine,' to you."

Shooting the man an unimpressed look, tempered by the amusement Merlin has never been able to fight in his presence, Merlin informed him, "I refuse to cave to the vagaries of the press where you are concerned. Calling you the Dark Knight has only made you cockier than before."

"I should sue you for libel, Mr. Journalist. That title goes back to long before my leather wearing days."

"Technically, what I said would be considered slander, and no court would ever uphold that claim, since they don't actually know who you are. Now, what are you doing here?"

"I just came from dropping a few muggers off at the Yard, and I needed a place to catch my breath before George sees me and frets." They had a good system, the two of them. Merlin took care of the magical criminals, and Gwaine took care of the more mundane infringers. It helped immensely that Gwaine was willing to help pay for any damages incurred during their bouts of heroics with the vast inheritance at his disposal.

"George always frets." Aside from keeping his employer's secrets, looking after the manor, and researching Camelot's illegal activities, fretting was one of George's specialties. That, and delivering subtly disapproving stares.

"Alright, so I had a bit of an ulterior motive. I haven't heard from you in a while, and clearly I shouldn't neglect you so much if pining after me has started keeping you up at night."

Merlin raised an eyebrow in Gwaine's general direction. "Did you hit your head while you were taking care of those muggers?"

Placing the head in question in Merlin's lap, Gwaine looked up and asked, "Why? Are you willing to kiss it better if I say 'yes?'" When all he earned for his troubles was a slight rise at the corners of Merlin's lips, he lifted a hand and squeezed his friend's thigh. "What's wrong with the princess now?"

"Nothing new. Nothing you don't already know about." To Gwaine Lot, no piece of information was truly sacred - he could hack into any database, bug any room. As convenient as that skill was on a plethora of occasions, it often made Merlin mourn for the days before technology became so invasive.

"Doesn't mean I won't listen if you feel like talking about it." He sent a less-than-surreptitious glance at the potted plants, causing Merlin to shake his head. Why had he not considered that Gwaine would know about his recent floral confessions?

Sighing, Merlin promised, "If I ever actually find one of your cameras or listening devices in my home, I will curse it to play Britney Spears until your ears bleed."

"Duly noted. Now - you were about to spill your heart out and possibly cry on my shoulder."

Laughing, Merlin shoved his irrepressible friend away. "In your dreams."

Sitting together against the balcony window, they waited and watched the world come alive.


	6. We're in a war that can't be won

**The title for this is from Sum 41's **_**Still Waiting**_**. We're still kind of in an angsty place, but things should start picking up soon.**

The low lighting and near-silence of the newsroom at night could only do so much to stave off his impending headache, though he had hopes that caffeine might help. Rubbing newsprint-stained fingers against the skin beneath the reading glasses Arthur refused to wear around anyone but his family and his oddball investigative partner, he accepted the cup of coffee held out in his direction and continued to stare into the unyielding text upon his computer screen. "I swear, every time it feels like we're getting somewhere, there's another dead end. This 'Faerie Queen' is buried under so much red tape - how is it possible for one criminal to have such protection? Is she even real? Or some sort of... I don't know. Distraction from something else? What are we missing?"

"She's definitely real, Arthur," Merlin affirmed darkly, remembering the way his partner's body had looked tied up and almost lifeless on the warehouse floor. "But maybe that's what we should focus on for a while - the companies and the politicians who keep covering for her." He took a risk, placing his hand on the back of his partner's chair, and was rewarded by - nothing. Arthur simply continued scrolling doggedly through the information on the screen. It was as though the point of contact between his hand and Arthur's back was utterly inconsequential. Merlin wasn't sure whether he wanted to sigh in relief or to make something explode. On the one hand, he felt grateful Arthur chose not to jerk away or make some cutting remark. On the other - how long was he going to remain stubbornly unaffected by every shy advance Merlin made? Was he truly indifferent?

Moments later, he thought he might have his answer. Arthur went completely still, and even as Merlin prepared to withdraw his hand, he heard, "Tell me that I'm reading this wrong."

Merlin glanced at the profile which was currently rigid with agitation, then to the monitor, eagerness and dread warring in his mind. After nearly a month, had Arthur finally stumbled on something definitive? Some sign that the Faerie Queen was not only a real person, but his own half-sister? Inhaling swiftly, Merlin told his partner, "I wish I could." He couldn't, though. Like all organizations, the Faerie Queen's enterprises required funding, and Arthur had managed to trace several branches of her organization back to the inheritance Gorlois left the little girl he believed was his daughter when he died.

Stunned, Arthur could do nothing but sit and read over the evidence until it felt as though it had been seared within his consciousness. The cup of coffee was in serious danger of spilling its contents onto the pristine ivory carpet of the newsroom floor, but Merlin swooped down to save it at the last minute. Feeling Merlin's hands gently removing the still-hot cup from his own, Arthur stirred, pulling off his reading glasses with unsteady fingers. "I have to - I can't," unable to finish the thought aloud, he rose from his chair and headed for the elevator, ignoring the concerned inquiries of his partner. There were only so many places he would go when he felt like this - either Merlin would figure it out, or he wouldn't.

Gasping for air - why was it so hard to breathe? Why was the world spinning? Why would Mo - he cut that thought off and grasped at the stone wall that was all that prevented him from falling straight from the Camelot Press rooftop. Scant labored breaths later, he felt the same hand from before land upon his back, but this time, he acknowledged the person to whom it belonged. "How could she do this?"

It was silent between them until Merlin sighed and told him, "I don't know. Maybe everything that happened a few years ago was just too much for her and she just... snapped." The year that Merlin joined the Camelot Press, Ascetir Daily released the scandal of the journalistic world, lambasting Uther Penn for his affair with his late investor and best friend Gorlois' wife and revealing Morgana's true parentage. A few months later, the Faerie Queen committed her first crime, straining relations between the magical and non-magical people of the United Kingdom. It was this that prompted Merlin to become Superboy, in the hopes that he might protect the people of his home from misguided sorcerers and help heal the breach between those with and those without magic.

"What am I going to do? She's my sister, I can't..." Closing his eyes, Arthur stopped to sort through everything going through his head.

"Look, if you want to just..." Merlin's voice tapered off, knowing how his suggestion would be taken, and hating that the possibility had even crossed his mind.

Arthur confirmed his prediction when he demanded, "To just what? To drop it? Pretend I don't know the truth? I can't do that, even if she is my -"

"Your family."

Swallowing, Arthur muttered, "Yeah. That."

"It doesn't have to be you, you know. Given the right information, any journalist could write that article. We could send what we have to someone else, wash our hands of the whole thing." Now that he had said it, Merlin wondered why the idea had never occurred to him before. He could have continued distracting Arthur from the investigation and quietly concluded it on his own before offering to share his findings with a journalist from another paper. It would have been the perfect solution, but for the bitter taste of betrayal the mere _idea_ of it left in his mouth.

Arthur would have none of it. "No. This started with a member of my family, and it's going to end that way. I won't allow anyone else to suffer for the wrongs the Penns have committed."

_And this is why I can't seem to get over you_. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."


	7. I'm living for giving the devil his due

**The title for part VII of _Smalltown Superhero_ is from Blue Oyster Cult's _Burn Out the Day_. This is the final piece for this series, so far as I know. I might do the occasional one-shot for it, but I haven't decided yet. Thanks to all of you who've followed it to this point, and hi to those of you who are just discovering it! And now, on to the finale.**

He should have known that they were being watched. Why else would she have taken the risk of kidnapping her half-brother more than a month ago, unless she knew that he was getting close to the truth? Crazed as she had become, she was still smarter than that.

Cutting off his self-recriminations, he assessed their situation much the same as he would take in a natural disaster or a magical crime scene.

Soft carpet cushioned his admittedly bony backside, and the scents of newsprint and coffee filled his nose. Solid and stoic, Arthur's broad shoulders and back pressed against Merlin's own. Ever-so-subtly, Merlin maneuvered his bound hands to lace through his companion's. He breathed in, slow and deep, and glared defiantly up at the Faerie Queen. The witch grinned down at the pair, as a snake would bare her fangs before opening up her throat and devouring a helpless meal.

The joke was on her.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I have no preference. The easy way would be much faster, the hard way would be more... fun. So it's up to you. Will you, or will you not convince Uther to drop the article from tomorrow's paper?" Had she always sounded so smug? Merlin didn't think so.

The sound of Arthur's teeth grinding together was at once heartening and amusing. If he could still feel anger, he would be alright. Arthur was never one to break when things became difficult.

Merlin's glare shifted, becoming something devious, practically daring her to do something she would most certainly regret. In the last few days, he had come to the realization that his secret identity no longer mattered - not where the Penn siblings were concerned. Let them find out the truth. He'd survived Arthur's stress over the investigation - surely he could make it through his reaction to this secret, too. "Mmm. I don't know, Morgana. It's such a lovely piece, really. It has betrayal, intrigue, political corruption - it's practically going to fly off the racks once it's published."

Her face twisted, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing. "Don't call me that! You no longer have the right."

"Why not, _Morgana?_" Arthur intoned, all false innocence and saccharine sweetness. Yes, Arthur would be fine.

Mouth forming a firm line, she demanded, "Is this your answer? You would defy me, even now? Now that you are helpless against me?"

He tilted his head to the side and said loftily, "I don't know - what about you, Arthur? You feeling like caving?"

"When we're having so much fun? No, Merlin, I couldn't possibly." Beneath the bravado, there was a firm squeeze of both Merlin's hands. He pressed back and turned to face the Faerie Queen once more.

"Fine then," she uttered in a poor imitation of acceptance, "we'll see how stubborn you are while the building burns down around you." The color of her eyes for once matched the fire that lurked within, and then that fire was everywhere - the walls, the ceiling, the computers, the carpet - everywhere but the Faerie Queen herself.

As she waited for their screams - either in fear or acquiescence, she cared little - Merlin grinned fiercely up at her and just like that, the flames disappeared, leaving the newsroom exactly as it had been before. Their hands were unbound, and still maintaining his hold upon his partner's, Merlin stood, bringing Arthur up with him. "You really shouldn't have done that, Morgana."

Arthur released one of Merlin's hands and came up beside him, barely in time to catch the gold fading from his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow that promised a long and uncomfortable discussion later, then chanced a look at his half-sister, whose face had turned positively ashen with shock and poorly concealed fear. "Well, this is awkward."

He felt the change in the air as the Faerie Queen prepared to disappear, and used his own magic to interfere. "No, please stay," he crooned. "We've barely even started."

By the time he had placed the specially crafted cuffs upon her wrists and passed her off to the authorities with the assurance that she would pose no threat, so long as she continued to wear them, Merlin could tell that Arthur's righteous fury from before was starting to flag. In its place was a slightly overwhelmed, lost demeanor, and Merlin cautiously put an arm around him, shock blanket and all, glad that no one could see them in the back of the ambulance. It had been slightly odd, putting on The Suit while Arthur looked on earlier, but there was no way Merlin Emrys could be the one to arrest the Faerie Queen, and so he had risked changing while he had her incapacitated.

Swallowing, Arthur leaned closer and informed him, "I'm very angry with you, by the way."

Was that supposed to be news? "I know."

"I expect lots of groveling in the near future."

"Figured that one out, too."

"You are in _very _deep sh-" Merlin cut him off, covering Arthur's irritated mouth with his own, enjoying the startled noise the action elicited, and then merely enjoying the kiss itself. From the way Arthur tilted his head, he enjoyed it, too. Pulling back, Arthur breathed in sharply. "Do you kiss every person you save if they don't immediately fall at your feet in gratitude?"

Merlin snorted. "If I did that it would be all over the news in seconds. Besides, you've always been a bit of a special case."

Trying and failing to hide his pleasure at this, Arthur told him, "As long as it stays that way."

"Always." Biting his lip, Merlin debated with himself before asking, "Would you like to come see my azaleas?"

Arthur's face was a study in emotions - hilarity, incredulity, resignation, satisfaction. Finally, he laughed and allowed, "Sure - if that's code for something else. Idiot."

_Prat_. "Someone's forward."

Eyes burning softly, Arthur told him, "Only because I know what I want."


End file.
